Snapshots of Life
by Nerdyesque
Summary: AU - What if Veronica Mars went into Witness Protection?


**A/N: I love strong female characters and here are two of my favorite T.V. blondes: Veronica Mars from **_**Veronica Mars**_** and Mary Shannon from **_**In Plain Sight**_**. Just in case it's not clear, the story starts after "The Bitch Is Back." This is my first cross-over and it was interesting trying to mesh two completely different shows while staying in character/universe for each one (I wrote it all in one shot and didn't even edit it so excuse my mistakes as I wanted to set it and forget it). This story was inspired by "In Between," by Linkin Park.**

May 2007

Flashes of soundless light and then weightlessness.

~!~!~~!~!~~!~!~

_BP ninety-one over fifty and dropping…_

_Jesus how does someone this small have so much blood?_

_Veronica, I want you to stay with me. Listen to me._

_Fuck, we're losing him…_

~!~!~~!~!~~!~!~

She was so young and small in the bed, a child who would open her eyes to talk about ponies and butterflies, not a nineteen year-old witness who could lead to an indictment in a RICO case spanning a decade.

"What is she, twelve?"

"Mary, c'mon. Have some compassion for her trials and tribulations."

"Marshall, she's a blond cheerleader who got caught kissing the wrong boy and now I have to clean up the mess."

Marshal Marshall Mann (yes he was aware of the irony) flipped through the thick file in his hands. "According to this, she came to the attention of the Sorokin family when she bugged the junior son's room at Hearst College."

"What do you mean, "bugged?""

"Do you ever read the files Stan sends?"

"Why, when I know you will?"

"This "cheerleader" was considered the Nancy Drew of Hearst and was instrumental in catching the serial rapist terrorizing the campus for the last three years. At some point during this semester, she became suspicious of one Gorya "Gory" Sorokin for something completely separate, and bugged his room with a listening device. She recorded his conversations and found out about his mafia ties."

Marshal Mary Shannon turned incredulous eyes at the sleeping witness. "Barbie?"

Marshall flipped back a few pages. "It looks like she was raised by her father Mr. Keith Mars, Sheriff of Neptune-cum-PI."

"I hate when you do that."

"Do what?"

"Use weird words like "cum" that sound dirty when they aren't."

"Grow up, Mary!" Dark eyes flashed beneath overgrown brown bangs.

"So why are we stuck with her? Why isn't the California Marshal Service handling this?"

"Did you even listen to a word Stan said before we left?"

Mary grimaced a little, knowing her partner would ride her about her inattention to their boss. "Ummm…something about doing our jobs and making him proud?"

"Why do I even bother asking anymore?" Marshal looked up at the ceiling as if speaking to a higher deity. Sighing deeply, he continued. "Mr. Mars was the one who called into the local FBI office about his daughter's findings and they were on their way to turn over her evidence when they crashed into the barrier. Cops on scene said there was only one set of tires marks on the road and the wrecked car had damage at the trunk like it was pushed from behind."

"But that still doesn't tell me why _we're _here," Mary whined, her lanky body folding into a petulant stance.

"The FBI is asking us to handle this instead because of the possible leaks in the Golden State Office. Since Stan has some friends in high places, and they're calling in favors he owed, we got the nod."

"Nothing to do with the fact we don't lose our witnesses and they rarely die in our custody?" She thrust a darkly tanned hand through sandy blond hair. "And Miss Teen Queen here is our only witness?" 

"Her father died at the scene and Ms. Mars is more than a "Teen Queen." She was supposed to go to Virginia for the internship program in June."

"_Barbie_?" Mary pointed at the petite motionless figure.

"You know, no matter how many times you say it like that, the facts aren't going to change."

"Jesus, when I was her age I was trying to not get caught sneaking out of the house by Jinx while wearing her White Snake leather jacket."

"You wore a White Snake Leather jacket?"

"Wipe that smirk off your face, Marshal. It was very hot back then, even if it was my mom's."

A knock at the door interrupted their mild banter. Marshal instinctively fell back towards the girl as Mary shifted in front of them both, while still leaving a clear path for him to draw his gun and shoot if it came down to it.

"May I come in?"

"And you are?" She knew Marshall would reprimand her for her tone later, but the safety of her witness superseded civility.

"The patient's doctor."

Mary eyed the middle-aged female in the white lab coat and mentally compared to the picture Marshall had shown her; she looked similar, but one could never be too careful.

"Who is she, how old, how much does she weigh, and what is her prognosis?"

"Mary –" Marshall warned. "Excuse my overeager partner, Dr. Patel, but we must take all precautions with this patient." He stepped away from the bed and ushered the doctor in with the innate flair Mary found so amusing and puzzling about him. He then quickly shut the door after verifying no one was lurking in the hallway.

"Yes, yes, I understand Marshall Mann. It was explained to me." She calmly held out a chart to Mary. "Here, this will tell you everything about Ms. Mars."

"We prefer if you don't use names at this time. Right now, she is Jane Doe." Mary grasped the chart and did a brief but thorough check through to make sure there were no actual names used. Satisfied, she returned it to the doctor.

"Ahem, yes. Jane Doe came to our ER in the back of an ambulance after experiencing a high impact collision of some sort. She suffered from minor facial lacerations, a broken knee, and severe trauma to her abdomen. Unfortunately, while they were able to stabilize her, her male companion was pronounced dead en route to the hospital."

Marshall came to stand at his partner's side, their shoulders brushing momentarily. To an outsider, it was merely an incidental touch, but for them it was another way for them to communicate when words weren't possible. Mary nodded slightly in agreement.

"When will we be able to move Jane Doe?"

"We almost lost her too! She needs a few days for recovery."

"Doctor, she may not have a few more days if she doesn't leave. This accident wasn't an accident, but a hit on Jane Doe that she miraculously survived but killed her father. How long?"

Dr. Patel sighed as age and the late hour caught up with her in an overwhelming slide of exhaustion. "If she's able to remain prone with correct fluids, she can be moved in the morning."

Mary checked her watch and saw it was one o'clock A.M. Pacific. "Perfect. We'll bag her up and hit the road."

Marshall just shook his head at the good doctor when she opened her mouth to object to the cavalier attitude. That was just Mary.

~!~!~~!~!~~!~!~

"_Logan…God, this is hard….Please…call me. Call me. We need to talk."_

He listened to the voice mail message over and over, hearing the hesitation so unlike his Ronnie, the almost hopeful note in her voice at the end. Could she have changed her mind at last? Was she finally coming back home to him after dumping that chump Piz?

Why had he thought taking off for TJ with Dick for a few days was better than waiting for Veronica to respond to his cave-man wooing? He'd seen her luminous eyes and tremulous smile after he beat the shit out of that Gory guy, knew in his bones she could no longer deny their connection. Anyone who saw them together knew it was only a matter of time.

Apparently it was time.

Trembling fingers dialed the number he knew by heart.

_Hi, this is Veronica and I'm not here right now so please leave a message and I'll get back to you when I can. If this is Logan, we really _are_ epic. If this is anyone else, ignore that._

_Beep._

"Ronnie, I...fuck…we're epic."

It wasn't the most romantic message, but he knew words weren't really necessary. She knew how he felt. Lying back on his bed, he waited for her to call him back.

~!~!~~!~!~~!~!~

"Man, I can't wait to get out of this hell-hole," Mary groused to her companion, buckling her as the warning sign commanded. "Get me back to the Land of Enchantment."

"Did you know that if California was a country, it would be the eighth-largest economy in the world?"

"Marshall, did you stay up reading Wikipedia?"

His mouth said no, but his shifty eyes said yes. Mary smirked at his consternation at being caught geeking out again. "How many times have I told you - chicks dig guys with scars."

"I have scars."

"The one on your hand from the stapler doesn't count."

Settling back into her luxurious seat, quite a come-up from their usual mode of transportation, Mary relaxed as the plane took off. In a few minutes they'd clear LA Lax and on their back home to Albuquerque with their recovering witness. Everything was going according to plan.

~!~!~~!~!~~!~!~

_And in breaking news, the unidentified driver and passenger in the 1997 Chevy Le Baron that careened into the dividing barrier on the PCH late Thursday evening were finally identified as local Neptune residents, Keith Mars and his daughter Veronica. Unfortunately, Mr. Mars died at the scene of the accident, and his daughter died a few days later due to complications after emergency surgery, according to Chief Trauma surgeon Dr. Ayanna Patel. _

~!~!~~!~!~~!~!~

August 2007

Marshal stared at the small blond seated in the conference room with consternation. She was dressed simply in a white t-shirt and blue jeans, but somehow he felt like she was clothed in impenetrable black.

"Why are you glaring?"

"I'm not glaring, Mary, this is called concern. You'd know what it was if you weren't a Cylon."

"Huh?"

"Exactly. I'm on to you, Mary."

"Seriously, Marshall, you're freaking me out. What's your deal with Barbie?"

There was something about their latest witness that unsettled him, though he couldn't put his finger on it, so he fingered everything else on his already perfectly straight and evenly spaced desk because idle hands were the devil's workshop. Not that Marshall was particularly religious, but he found it helped him to sort through the chaos in his mind if he ordered everything else in his life.

Except Mary. She was a force unto herself and defied logic and order with every beat of her heart.

Maybe that was it. He had two Marys in his life – God forfend it if it were so because their job would be immeasurably harder.

"She just like you."

"Why do I think this is an insult?"

"We've seen her nearly every day for past few months –"

"No, _you've_ seen her nearly every day for the past few months and thanks by the way for that since she's _my_ witness."

He ignored her interjection. "And I've never seen her cry. Hell, I've never seen her anything less than stoic."

"Oh God forbid a woman be stoic; she must be a freak."

"Mary, this girl has lost everything: her home, her family, even her way of life, yet she calmly sits there without fidgeting or biting her nails."

Mary finally stopped her perusing another open case on her computer and glanced over at the young blonde through the glass wall separating them. There was a strength and sense of purpose about Barbie, but otherwise nothing that tipped off Mary's very well-informed bullshit meter. Growing up the daughter of an absentee father and an alcoholic mother, she'd developed a sixth sense about people, and her witness didn't strike her as anything less than compliant.

"Mary, Marshall, just the people I wanted to see."

Stan, their boss, came through the double doors with a wide smile on his face.

Both made a show of checking their watches. "We beat you here, boss? She must've been a good time in the sack to make you late."

He chuckled good-naturedly, well used to their digs at his lack of social life and insistency on being early to the office. "I had an interesting chat with the US Attorney."

"About this case?"

"Yes." He put down his case in his office then stepped back out, large stack of papers in hand. "Let's go talk to our witness and we'll all hear the news."

Marshall and Mary exchanged glances but followed without protest.

"Hi, young lady, I'm Stan McQueen the Chief Inspector for WITSEC's Southwest region, and you know Marshall and Mary."

The small blond merely nodded at each in turn and watched as they seated themselves.

"I'm sure Mary has brought you up to speed –"

"Actually I haven't seen Mary since I first came to Albuquerque."

"I've been busy…" Mary protested to her clearly irate boss.

"Don't worry about it, Mcqueen. I was just lying in a hospital bed trying to recover from having my insides ripped out and learning to walk again on a shattered knee. She dislikes weakness in herself, so she hates to see it in others. I get it."

Shock filled the office at their witness' spot on characterization of Mary.

"Have you been leafing through my Dear Diary again?"

A faint smirk, an echo of the vibrant one Veronica used to flash, turned up her lips. "As if it were hard to find tucked under the loose fifth plank on the left side of your bed."

Mary felt her lips curling into a grin at Barbie's spunk. There might be more to this chick than shiny blonde hair and white teeth after all. She conveniently disregarded the information she learned in California, more comfortable with her shallow depiction of the witness.

"So how does this work? Do I sign something in blood?"

"Nope, just a big black X."

"Whew. So where do I sign?"

"Right here." The three hundred pages made a nice thunk on the table as she dropped it on the surface. "As soon as we go over all of this information."

"I guess it's good thing my mom let me out to play all afternoon."

_Two hours later…_

"So in closing, all contact with friends, family, or other persons from your past is strictly prohibited."

"Guess I can't call up my best friend to let him know I'm alive."

Marshall, who'd returned after taking a few phone calls, piped up. "Think of WITSEC as a little like _Where's Waldo?_ Waldo is difficult to find because he blends in with the scenery."

He eyed their witness and privately thought it would be difficult for anyone to overlook her for long. Even wan and pale from months in the hospital didn't detract from her fragile beauty and luminous blue eyes.

"What's my new name going to be?"

"Well, normally we try to pick names with similar initials to your original ones, or even keep the first name the same and change the last, but in your case it's a little more difficult."

"What, I can't be a Verona?"

"Uh no."

"Can I choose the name?"

The three Marshals exchanged glances. "Sure, but it can't be something that is a direct or indirect reference or link to your past. If we're going to Waldo you, we must do a total job."

"If I'm going to change my life, I need to go the whole way otherwise what's the point. I want to be Barbara Fortenberry, nicknamed Barbie."

"Barbie?"

She shrugged. "You called me that the first night we met, and again here. I know what I look like, so it just fits. Don't you agree Mary?"

And for the first time Mary really looked at her witness, looked beneath the veneer of pretty girl, and saw a kindred spirit. This girl really did have everything taken from her, including her identity, but she'd borne up with remarkable patience and fortitude despite it all.

She reached across the table palm up and said, "Nice to meet you, Barbie."

Older than they should be blue eyes met her brown ones. "Nice to meet you, Inspector Shepard."

Marshall and Stan blew out discreet breaths because they both knew Mary and it could've easily gone the other way. Of course, they didn't know Barbie-nee-Veronica and her backbone of steel, but it was probably for the best everyone decided to play nice.

"Ok, now that we've discussed your identity, we need to talk about what you know and the evidence to back it up."

For the first time since she woke up six hundred twenty-four miles from home (she'd calculated it), Barbie's expression lit up with anticipatory glee.

~!~!~~!~!~~!~!~

Dick stared at the closed door to Logan's room with unaccustomed helplessness. Three months had passed since Veronica's funeral – more a coming together of those who knew and loved her best since there was no body to bury (she'd been a donor and her organs had been harvested the night she died) – and Logan had retreated into a black hole where nothing could touch him.

Girls, food, booze, videogames, and friends had ceased to exist for him without his Ronnie. Sometimes Dick would hear Logan's voicemail on speaker as his dead ex-girlfriend's voice filled the room with haunting regret. He feared for his best friend's sanity, especially since this was the second serious girlfriend senselessly killed and Logan didn't have anything to fall back on like he did in high school. The irony of Veronica – once nemesis and panacea for Lily – leaving Logan alone didn't escape Dick.

A quick rap on the door broke into his spiraling thoughts and he shook himself free gratefully. Dick Casablancas wasn't meant for depression, but action. Piz, standing on the other side of the door, would be the perfect target.

"Dude! Good to see you."

"Uh…yah…hi Dick." Piz was understandably confused by the surfer's happy greeting since before now they'd exchanged a handful of words.

"Come in, come in."

"Uh, Mac and Wallace said I should come by."

"Dude, you're the only one who can move Logan." 

"What? The guy _hates_ me."

"Exactly. That's the point."

"Uh, what's the point?"

"Dude something's wrong here if I'm the one who has to explain it to you. Logan needs a kick in the ass and he hates you. He'll go all ape-shit over you and then he'll get better."

Dick's goofy grin showed off the fortune his father spent on orthodontia, but didn't put Piz at ease.

"I'm sorry if I don't want to get beaten up by him…_again"_

"_Logan…God, this is hard….Please…call me. Call me. We need to talk."_

Shock leached color from Piz's normally tanned face. "Is that Veronica?"

Dick, used to the ghostly voice, nodded. "It's the last message she left him before she died."

Both teens stared at the wooden portal to another man's hell and drew deep breaths.

'"Dude, you gotta do it."

Piz agreed, though this was the last place he ever pictured himself. _Because she loved him._

"What do I say?"

"I dunno. Whatever you think he'd listen to."

Thoughts spun through Piz's head as he quickly reviewed what little he knew about Logan, Veronica, and Logan and Veronica. The only thing he knew for sure was that they'd loved each other with an obsession and depth he'd never seen, even between his parents who were happily married for twenty-five years.

"Okay, I'm ready."

~!~!~~!~!~~!~!~

June 2010

"C'mon, Mary. I've been the model witness, I don't break the rules, you always know where I am, and I'm doing well at school. Please?"

Mary ignored Barbie's puppy dog eyes – _really, doesn't work if you have sky blue eyes_ – and continued stalking down the hallway, visibly snapping with ill-grace.

"Barbie, this isn't considered an emergency! I rushed over here expecting you to be held hostage by one of the kids, or fighting off bad guys. Not wanting to watch a streaming video of some graduation."

"You know I only have limited internet access. I can't miss this afternoon. Please."

The emotional _please_ caught at Mary's heart and tugged. In the three years since Barbie entered the program, she'd remained the determined and stoic girl they'd first met at the WITSEC office. Marshall still expressed concern over her emotional stagnancy, but Mary understood.

When everything else is stripped from you, the only thing left is the shield between your heart and the world. She knew if it ever cracked, the world would burn.

Mary would like to think it was weighing her options and being a sensible Marshal caused her to cave, but secretly she feared it was because of the pitifully small figure Barbie made, the knotted fingers twisting uselessly in the soft flowing skirt drifting around her slender hips and legs.

"Fine, but you'll have to watch it downtown."

"Okay!"

"And you can't tell Stan. If he finds out, I'm saying you kidnapped me and held me at gunpoint."

~!~!~~!~!~~!~!~

"Bachelor of Arts in English, Logan William Echolls."

Logan received the empty scroll (apparently took a week to get it inscribed and sent in the mail) and moved the dangling fringe to the other side. The motion seemed pointless and trite, but it was a tradition and something he knew his friends were looking forward to.

Once he crossed the stage and returned to his seat, he zoned out at the endless parade of names and faces of people he didn't know and or care about, wondering when it would finish so he could catch up with everyone at Winston's Bar.

He was only here for Ronnie's sake and hoped she and Lily were giggling up on whatever cloud they'd commandeered, whispering about how they couldn't believe bad boy Logan Echolls had made it to graduation without knocking up a girl, dropping out of school, or dying of alcohol poisoning.

A wry smile crossed his lips as he wondered if Veronica would look nineteen forever, as Lily always remained seventeen in his visions. He'd come to uneasy terms with his beloved's death – even finally deleting her last voicemail – but hated how she never haunted him in ghost form as Lily had that last year before being avenged. Logan supposed it was because Ronnie hadn't been murdered at the hands of someone close to her, so there was no unfinished business for her on earth.

_I never got to hear her say "I love you."_

~!~!~~!~!~~!~!~

September 2013

"Are you ready?"

"I'm so nervous, Mary. I never really thought this day would come. It's been almost six years!"

"Don't you think it's time to become the actual teacher?"

"Uh, small problem, I don't have any experience."

"Well, this paper says you do, Barbie. And five and half years of being a teacher's aide will help."

"Well, that paper is a fabrication and a lie made up by my very own U S of A government. Not nice of the government to lie to kids."

"Get your ass in there and meet your third graders or I'm taking my gun out."

"Fine, fine."

Mary watched Barbie open up the elementary class room with a bright smile. "Good morning class."

"Good morning, Ms. Fortenberry."

Mary grinned triumphantly, feeling a little like a mama bird watching her baby fly for the first time. _Or at the very least flailing on the way down_.

The cell rang at her hip and she quickly flipped it open. "What's the word? And if you say bird…well, there will be consequences."

"The indictment went through; they finally nailed the sons of bitches."

"She'll testify?"

"She's gonna testify!"

"Oh God, Marshall, she just started her first day of school."

"Well, it'll take a few months before the proceedings get under way, so let her enjoy it until it's time to go back to California."

~!~!~~!~!~~!~!~

"Do you think you'll marry this chick, dude?"

Logan glanced over at Dick with a shrug. "I don't know if I'm the marrying type, ya know? I mean, we've only been together two years. How do you know if you're with the one you're gonna spend the rest of your life with?"

Dick nodded sagely, the rim of the bottle pressed tightly against his lips. He took a tentative swallow then finally set the beer down.

"Is it you don't know if you can spend the rest of your life with Tracey or is it, she's not Ronnie?"

Logan stared out at the undulating waves, squinting when a lance of sunshine bounced off the water into his eyes. "I never thought I'd marry Ronnie either."

"Bullshit. You can't feed me that, Logan. You saw kids, carpool, and soccer with her, that's why you hung onto her for so long. She was your normal."

Speechless at the accuracy and insight of Dick's statement, Logan remained silent because to refute it, would make him a liar. He _had_ seen an endless future with Veronica, figured eventually they'd end up married with two point five kids, a mini-Hummer, and a pool. He knew she'd never be content to stay at home, so Logan hadn't minded being the house husband. What did he know of being a productive member of society?

"Maybe Tracey can be my new normal." Nowadays, he didn't expect epic, because with the maturity of adulthood, he knew the flipside of romance was tragedy and he'd had both in spades.

Sometimes, late at night with Tracey tucked beside him, he wondered if he would've even made it with Veronica, or if the meeting the long ago voicemail seemed to promise would've ended as it always did, with him loving a woman running away.

His new life was settled in unexpected ways and he had a lover who whispered "I love you," as sweetly as he'd ever wished Veronica to. Sure, a minute part of him rejected it, thought the words flowed too easily, scoffed she was conquered too soon, but the rest of him reveled in her affection.

It didn't occur to him he never said "I love you," back.

~!~!~~!~!~~!~!~

November 2014

"I call Veronica Nicole Mars to the stand."

Silence fell in the closed courtroom as she slowly stood and made her way to the witness stand, her cane tapping in time to her awkward shuffle. The shattered knee had never really come back to full use, but the fact she could walk on it was a miracle in itself.

"Please raise your right hand and put it on the bible."

Veronica-nee-Barbie did as instructed, a tiny niggle of a memory of a spiky-haired boy screaming "Ow. Oh, it burns!" when doing the same.

"Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but?"

"I do."

And so it began, the case built up against the Sorokin crime family, the beginnings of their downfall riding on the fragile shoulders of a once-plucky girl detective who fought to know the truth at any cost.

~!~!~~!~!~~!~!~

"Did you read about the trial?"

"Hon, you know when I'm immersed in my work I shut off all distractions."

"Well, it looks like a star witness was flown in from Albuquerque, New Mexico. There are no details about the identity because of witness protection and it is a closed courtroom."

Tracey looked over at her erstwhile boyfriend, his attention already returning to the inner workings of his brilliant mind.

Shaking her head at his abstraction, she merely kissed the top of his head and left him to his musings, admiring the large princess cut diamond on her left hand when it caught the morning sun.

~!~!~~!~!~~!~!~

January 2016

"Why are you opting out of the program now? You know you're still not safe from the Sorokins."

Mary rarely tried to dissuade her witnesses from their desired paths because ultimately she knew their choices had to come from within. Barbie was different, somehow. This Teen Queen had morphed into – maybe not quite a friend since Mary couldn't forgot her professional duties – but a comrade of sorts.

"When are you going to admit you love Marshall and see he loves you?"

The unexpectedness of the question cut Mary's next retort at the knees. "Huh?"

Veronica turned to her former handler with an impish smile. "I've spent the last nine years watching you two dance around your feelings and wanted to say something for so long, but always felt like I would be overstepping my boundaries. Now I say, fuck it. "

She stepped into Mary's personal space, her smaller form somehow menacing. "Mary, listen to me. Everyone I've ever loved was taken from me, my identity stripped, my self-worth sacrificed, in some quest for the greater good: the Truth. I never realized until it was too late that it's the quieter goods, the smaller truths that matter most. I can't regret nailing Gory's balls to the wall, but in doing so, I've given up everything else."

Veronica stepped away and dropped a folded newspaper onto Mary's desk. "Please don't be me."

Mary, shaken and disturbed by the conversation, heavily sat down in her chair and zoned out for a few minutes before finally looking at what Veronica left behind. In bold print the headlines of the entertainment section screamed: _**Former Tinsel Town Bad Boy Logan Echolls to Wed Toilet Paper Heiress Tracy Nevins in Lavish Summer Wedding!**_


End file.
